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diff --git a/27697.txt b/27697.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2073172 --- /dev/null +++ b/27697.txt @@ -0,0 +1,892 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mouse and The Moonbeam, by Eugene Field + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Mouse and The Moonbeam + +Author: Eugene Field + +Release Date: January 4, 2009 [EBook #27697] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOUSE AND THE MOONBEAM *** + + + + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Edwards and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + THE MOUSE + AND THE MOONBEAM + + + [Illustration] + + + THE MOUSE + AND THE MOONBEAM + + By + Eugene Field + + NEW YORK + 1919 + + + + +Copyright, 1912 + +by Charles Scribner's Sons + +Through the courtesy of Charles Scribner's Sons, +we were permitted to print this small private edition. + +--GIFT-- + + + + +[Decoration] + + +THE MOUSE AND THE MOONBEAM + +Whilst you were sleeping, little Dear-my-soul, strange things +happened; but that I saw and heard them, I should never have +believed them. The clock stood, of course, in the corner, a +moonbeam floated idly on the floor, and a little mauve mouse +came from the hole in the chimney corner and frisked and +scampered in the light of the moonbeam upon the floor. The +little mauve mouse was particularly merry; sometimes she danced +upon two legs and sometimes upon four legs, but always very +daintily and always very merrily. + +"Ah, me!" sighed the old clock, "how different mice are nowadays +from the mice we used to have in the good old times! Now there +was your grandma, Mistress Velvetpaw, and there was your +grandpa, Master Sniffwhisker,--how grave and dignified they +were! Many a night have I seen them dancing upon the carpet +below me, but always the stately minuet and never that crazy +frisking which you are executing now, to my surprise--yes, and +to my horror, too." + +"But why shouldn't I be merry?" asked the little mauve mouse. +"Tomorrow is Christmas, and this is Christmas eve." + +"So it is," said the old clock. "I had really forgotten all +about it. But, tell me, what is Christmas to you, little Miss +Mauve Mouse?" + +"A great deal to me!" cried the little mauve mouse. "I have been +very good a very long time: I have not used any bad words, nor +have I gnawed any holes, nor have I stolen any canary seed, nor +have I worried my mother by running behind the flour-barrel +where that horrid trap is set. In fact, I have been so good that +I am very sure Santa Claus will bring me something very pretty." + +This seemed to amuse the old clock mightily; in fact the old +clock fell to laughing so heartily that in an unguarded moment +she struck twelve instead of ten, which was exceedingly careless +and therefore to be reprehended. + +"Why, you silly little mauve mouse," said the old clock, "you +don't believe in Santa Claus, do you?" + +"Of course I do," answered the little mauve mouse. "Believe in +Santa Claus? Why shouldn't I? Didn't Santa Claus bring me a +beautiful butter-cracker last Christmas, and a lovely +gingersnap, and a delicious rind of cheese, and--and--lots of +things? I should be very ungrateful if I did _not_ believe in +Santa Claus, and I certainly shall not disbelieve in him at the +very moment when I am expecting him to arrive with a bundle of +goodies for me. + +"I once had a little sister," continued the little mauve mouse, +"who did not believe in Santa Claus, and the very thought of the +fate that befell her makes my blood run cold and my whiskers +stand on end. She died before I was born, but my mother has told +me all about her. Perhaps you never saw her: her name was +Squeaknibble, and she was in stature one of those long, low, +rangy mice that are seldom found in well-stocked pantries. +Mother says that Squeaknibble took after our ancestors who came +from New England, where the malignant ingenuity of the people +and the ferocity of the cats rendered life precarious indeed. +Squeaknibble seemed to inherit many ancestral traits, the most +conspicuous of which was a disposition to sneer at some of the +most respected dogmas in mousedom. From her very infancy she +doubted, for example, the widely accepted theory that the moon +was composed of green cheese; and this heresy was the first +intimation her parents had of the sceptical turn of her mind. +Of course her parents were vastly annoyed, for their maturer +natures saw that this youthful scepticism portended serious, +if not fatal, consequences. Yet all in vain did the sagacious +couple reason and plead with their headstrong and heretical +child. + +"For a long time Squeaknibble would not believe that there was +any such archfiend as a cat; but she came to be convinced to the +contrary one memorable night, on which occasion she lost two +inches of her beautiful tail, and received so terrible a fright +that for fully an hour afterward her little heart beat so +violently as to lift her off her feet and bump her head against +the top of our domestic hole. The cat that deprived my sister of +so large a percentage of her vertebral colophon was the same +brindled ogress that nowadays steals ever and anon into this +room, crouches treacherously behind the sofa, and feigns to be +asleep, hoping, forsooth, that some of us, heedless of her hated +presence, will venture within reach of her diabolical claws. So +enraged was this ferocious monster at the escape of my sister +that she ground her fangs viciously together, and vowed to take +no pleasure in life until she held in her devouring jaws the +innocent little mouse which belonged to the mangled bit of tail +she even then clutched in her remorseless claws." + +"Yes," said the old clock, "now that you recall the incident, +I recollect it well. I was here then, in this very corner, and +I remember that I laughed at the cat and chided her for her +awkwardness. My reproaches irritated her; she told me that a +clock's duty was to run itself down, _not_ to be depreciating +the merits of others! Yes, I recall the time; that cat's tongue +is fully as sharp as her claws." + +"Be that as it may," said the little mauve mouse, "it is a +matter of history, and therefore beyond dispute, that from that +very moment the cat pined for Squeaknibble's life; it seemed as +if that one little two-inch taste of Squeaknibble's tail had +filled the cat with a consuming passion, or appetite, for the +rest of Squeaknibble. So the cat waited and watched and hunted +and schemed and devised and did everything possible for a cat--a +cruel cat--to do in order to gain her murderous ends. One +night--one fatal Christmas eve--our mother had undressed the +children for bed, and was urging upon them to go to sleep +earlier than usual, since she fully expected that Santa Claus +would bring each of them something very palatable and nice +before morning. Thereupon the little dears whisked their cunning +tails, pricked up their beautiful ears, and began telling one +another what they hoped Santa Claus would bring. One asked for a +slice of Roquefort, another for Neufchatel, another for Sap +Sago, and a fourth for Edam; one expressed a preference for de +Brie, while another hoped to get Parmesan; one clamored for +imperial blue Stilton, and another craved the fragrant boon of +Caprera. There were fourteen little ones then, and consequently +there were diverse opinions as to the kind of gift which Santa +Claus should best bring; still, there was, as you can readily +understand, an enthusiastic unanimity upon this point, namely, +that the gift should be cheese of some brand or other. + +"'My dears,' said our mother, 'what matters it whether the boon +which Santa Claus brings be royal English cheddar or fromage de +Bricquebec, Vermont sage, or Herkimer County skim-milk? We +should be content with whatsoever Santa Claus bestows, so long +as it be cheese, disjoined from all traps whatsoever, unmixed +with Paris green, and free from glass, strychnine, and other +harmful ingredients. As for myself, I shall be satisfied with a +cut of nice, fresh, Western reserve; for truly I recognise in no +other viand or edible half the fragrance or half the gustfulness +to be met with in one of these pale but aromatic domestic +products. So run away to your dreams now, that Santa Claus may +find you sleeping.' + +"The children obeyed,--all but Squeaknibble. 'Let the others +think what they please,' said she, 'but I don't believe in Santa +Claus. I'm not going to bed either. I'm going to creep out of +this dark hole and have a quiet romp, all by myself, in the +moonlight.' Oh, what a vain, foolish, wicked little mouse was +Squeaknibble! But I will not reproach the dead; her punishment +came all too swiftly. Now listen: who do you suppose overheard +her talking so disrespectfully of Santa Claus?" + +"Why, Santa Claus himself," said the old clock. + +"Oh, no," answered the little mauve mouse. "It was that wicked, +murderous cat! Just as Satan lurks and lies in wait for bad +children, so does the cruel cat lie in wait for naughty little +mice. And you can depend upon it that, when that awful cat heard +Squeaknibble speak so disrespectfully of Santa Claus, her wicked +eyes glowed with joy, her sharp teeth watered, and her bristling +fur emitted electric sparks as big as marrowfat peas. Then what +did that blood-thirsty monster do but scuttle as fast as she +could into Dear-my-Soul's room, leap up into Dear-my-Soul's +crib, and walk off with the pretty little white muff which +Dear-my-Soul used to wear when she went for a visit to the +little girl in the next block! What upon earth did the horrid +old cat want with Dear-my-Soul's pretty little white muff? Ah, +the duplicity, the diabolical ingenuity of that cat! Listen. + +"In the first place," resumed the little mauve mouse, after +a pause that testified eloquently to the depth of her +emotion,--"in the first place, that wretched cat dressed herself +up in that pretty little white muff, by which you are to +understand that she crawled through the muff just so far as to +leave her four cruel legs at liberty." + +"Yes, I understand," said the old clock. + +"Then she put on the boy doll's fur cap," said the little mauve +mouse, "and when she was arrayed in the boy doll's fur cap and +Dear-my-Soul's pretty little white muff, of course she didn't +look like a cruel cat at all. But whom did she look like?" + +"Like the boy doll," suggested the old clock. + +"No, no!" cried the little mauve mouse. + +"Like Dear-my-Soul?" asked the old clock. + +"How stupid you are!" exclaimed the little mauve mouse. "Why, +she looked like Santa Claus, of course!" + +"Oh, yes; I see," said the old clock. "Now I begin to be +interested; go on." + +"Alas!" sighed the little mauve mouse, "not much remains to be +told; but there is more of my story left than there was of +Squeaknibble when that horrid cat crawled out of that miserable +disguise. You are to understand that, contrary to her sagacious +mother's injunction, and in notorious derision of the mooted +coming of Santa Claus, Squeaknibble issued from the friendly +hole in the chimney corner, and gambolled about over this very +carpet, and, I dare say, in this very moonlight." + +"I do not know," said the moonbeam faintly. "I am so very old, +and I have seen so many things--I do not know." + +"Right merrily was Squeaknibble gambolling," continued the +little mauve mouse, "and she had just turned a double back +somersault without the use of what remained of her tail when, +all of a sudden, she beheld, looming up like a monster ghost, a +figure all in white fur! Oh, how frightened she was, and how her +little heart did beat! 'Purr, purr-r-r,' said the ghost in white +fur. 'Oh, please don't hurt me!' pleaded Squeaknibble. 'No; I'll +not hurt you,' said the ghost in white fur; 'I'm Santa Claus, +and I've brought you a beautiful piece of savory old cheese, +you dear little mousie, you.' Poor Squeaknibble was deceived; +a sceptic all her life, she was at last befooled by the most +palpable and most fatal of frauds. 'How good of you!' said +Squeaknibble. 'I didn't believe there was a Santa Claus, and--' +but before she could say more she was seized by two sharp, cruel +claws that conveyed her crushed body to the murderous mouth of +mousedom's most malignant foe. I can dwell no longer upon this +harrowing scene. Suffice it to say that ere the morrow's sun +rose like a big yellow Herkimer County cheese upon the spot +where that tragedy had been enacted, poor Squeaknibble passed to +that bourn whence two inches of her beautiful tail had preceded +her by the space of three weeks to a day. As for Santa Claus, +when he came that Christmas eve, bringing morceaux de Brie and +of Stilton for the other little mice, he heard with sorrow of +Squeaknibble's fate; and ere he departed he said that in all his +experience he had never known of a mouse or of a child that had +prospered after once saying that he didn't believe in Santa +Claus." + +"Well, that is a remarkable story," said the old clock. "But if +you believe in Santa Claus, why aren't you in bed?" + +"That's where I shall be presently," answered the little mauve +mouse, "but I must have my scamper you know. It is very +pleasant, I assure you, to frolic in the light of the moon; only +I cannot understand why you are always so cold and so solemn and +so still, you pale, pretty little moonbeam." + +"Indeed, I do not know that I am so," said the moonbeam. "But I +am very old, and I have travelled many, many, leagues, and I +have seen wondrous things. Sometimes I toss upon the ocean, +sometimes I fall upon a slumbering flower, sometimes I rest upon +a dead child's face. I see the fairies at their play, and I hear +mothers singing lullabies. Last night I swept across the frozen +bosom of a river. A woman's face looked up at me; it was the +picture of eternal rest. 'She is sleeping,' said the frozen +river. 'I'll rock her to and fro, and sing to her. Pass gently +by, O moonbeam; pass gently by, lest you awaken her.'" + +"How strangely you talk," said the old clock. "Now, I'll warrant +me that, if you wanted to, you could tell many a pretty and +wonderful story. You must know many a Christmas tale; pray, tell +us one to wear away this night of Christmas watching." + +"I know but one," said the moonbeam. "I have told it over and +over again, in every land and in every home; yet I do not weary +of it. It is very simple. Should you like to hear it?" + +"Indeed we should," said the old clock; "but before you begin, +let me strike twelve; for I shouldn't want to interrupt you." + +When the old clock had performed this duty with somewhat more +than usual alacrity, the moonbeam began its story: + +"Upon a time--so long ago that I can't tell how long ago it +was--I fell upon a hill-side. It was in a far distant country; +this I know, because, although it was the Christmas time, it was +not in that country as it is wont to be in countries to the +north. Hither the snow-king never came; flowers bloomed all the +year, and at all times the lambs found pleasant pasturage on the +hill-sides. The night wind was balmy, and there was a fragrance +of cedar in its breath. There were violets on the hill-side, +and I fell amongst them and lay there. I kissed them, and they +awakened. 'Ah, is it you, little moonbeam?' they said, and they +nestled in the grass which the lambs had left uncropped. + +"A shepherd lay upon a broad stone on the hill-side; above him +spread an olive-tree, old, ragged, and gloomy; but now it swayed +its rusty branches majestically in the shifting air of night. +The shepherd's name was Benoni. Wearied with long watching, he +had fallen asleep; his crook had slipped from his hand. Upon the +hill-side, too, slept the shepherd's flock. I had counted them +again and again; I had stolen across their gentle faces and +brought them pleasant dreams of green pastures and of cool +water-brooks. I had kissed old Benoni, too, as he lay slumbering +there; and in his dreams he seemed to see Israel's King come +upon earth, and in his dreams he murmured the promised Messiah's +name. + +"'Ah, is it you, little moonbeam?' quoth the violets. 'You have +come in good time. Nestle here with us, and see wonderful things +come to pass.' + +"'What are these wonderful things of which you speak?' I asked. + +"'We heard the old olive-tree telling of them to-night,' said +the violets. 'Do not go to sleep, little violets,' said the old +olive-tree, 'for this is Christmas night, and the Master shall +walk upon the hill-side in the glory of the midnight hour.' So +we waited and watched; one by one the lambs fell asleep; one by +one the stars peeped out; the shepherd nodded and crooned, and +crooned and nodded, and at last he, too, went fast asleep, and +his crook slipped from his keeping. Then we called to the old +olive-tree yonder, asking how soon the midnight hour would come; +but all the old olive-tree answered was 'Presently, presently,' +and finally we, too, fell asleep, wearied by our long watching, +and lulled by the rocking and swaying of the old olive-tree in +the breezes of the night. + +"'But who is this Master?' I asked. + +"'A child, a little child,' they answered. 'He is called the +little Master by the others. He comes here often, and plays +among the flowers of the hill-side. Sometimes the lambs, +gambolling too carelessly, have crushed and bruised us so that +we lie bleeding and are like to die; but the little Master heals +our wounds and refreshes us once again.' + +"I marvelled much to hear these things. 'The midnight hour is at +hand,' said I, 'and I will abide with you to see this little +Master of whom you speak.' So we nestled among the verdure of +the hill-side, and sang songs one to another. + +"'Come away!' called the night wind; 'I know a beauteous sea not +far hence, upon whose bosom you shall float, float, float, away +out into the mists and clouds, if you will come with me.' + +"But I hid under the violets and amid the tall grass, that the +night wind might not woo me with its pleading. 'Ho, there, old +olive-tree!' cried the violets; 'do you see the little Master +coming? Is not the midnight hour at hand?' + +"'I can see the town yonder,' said the old olive-tree. 'A star +beams bright over Bethlehem, the iron gates swing open, and the +little Master comes.' + +"Two children came to the hill-side. The one, older than his +comrade, was Dimas, the son of Benoni. He was rugged and sinewy, +and over his brown shoulders was flung a goat-skin; a leathern +cap did not confine his long, dark curly hair. The other child +was he whom they called the little Master; about his slender +form clung raiment white as snow, and around his face of +heavenly innocence fell curls of golden yellow. So beautiful a +child I had not seen before, nor have I ever since seen such as +he. And as they came together to the hill-side, there seemed to +glow about the little Master's head a soft white light, as if +the moon had sent its tenderest, fairest beams to kiss those +golden curls. + +"'What sound was that?' cried Dimas, for he was exceeding +fearful. + +"'Have no fear, Dimas,' said the little Master. 'Give me thy +hand and I will lead thee.' + +"Presently they came to the rock whereon Benoni, the shepherd, +lay; and they stood under the old olive-tree, and the old +olive-tree swayed no longer in the night wind, but bent its +branches reverently in the presence of the little Master. It +seemed as if the wind, too, stayed in its shifting course just +then; for suddenly there was a solemn hush, and you could hear +no noise, except that in his dreams Benoni spoke the Messiah's +name. + +"'Thy father sleeps,' said the little Master, 'and it is well +that it is so; for that I love thee Dimas, and that thou shalt +walk with me in my Father's Kingdom, I would show thee the +glories of my birthright.' + +"Then all at once sweet music filled the air, and light, greater +than the light of day, illumined the sky and fell upon all that +hill-side. The heavens opened, and angels, singing joyous songs, +walked to the earth. More wondrous still, the stars, falling +from their places in the sky, clustered upon the old olive-tree, +and swung hither and thither like colored lanterns. The flowers +of the hill-side all awakened, and they, too, danced and sang. +The angels, coming hither, hung gold and silver and jewels and +precious stones upon the old olive, where swung the stars; so +that the glory of that sight, though I might live forever, I +shall never see again. When Dimas heard and saw these things he +fell upon his knees, and catching the hem of the little Master's +garment, he kissed it. + +"'Greater joy than this shall be thine, Dimas,' said the little +Master; 'but first must all things be fulfilled.' + +"All through that Christmas night did the angels come and go +with their sweet anthems; all through that Christmas night did +the stars dance and sing; and when it came my time to steal +away, the hill-side was still beautiful with the glory and the +music of heaven." + +"Well, is that all?" asked the old clock. + +"No," said the moonbeam; "but I am nearly done. The years went +on. Sometimes I tossed upon the ocean's bosom, sometimes I +scampered o'er a battle-field, sometimes I lay upon a dead +child's face. I heard the voices of Darkness and mothers' +lullabies and sick men's prayers--and so the years went on. + +"I fell one night upon a hard and furrowed face. It was of +ghostly pallor. A thief was dying on the cross, and this was his +wretched face. About the cross stood men with staves and swords +and spears, but none paid heed unto the thief. Somewhat beyond +this cross another was lifted up, and upon it was stretched a +human body my light fell not upon. But I heard a voice that +somewhere I had heard before,--though where I did not know,--and +this voice blessed those that railed and jeered and shamefully +entreated. And suddenly the voice called 'Dimas, Dimas!' and the +thief upon whose hardened face I rested made answer. + +"Then I saw that it was Dimas; yet to this wicked criminal there +remained but little of the shepherd child whom I had seen in all +his innocence upon the hill-side. Long years of sinful life had +seared their marks into his face; yet now, at the sound of that +familiar voice, somewhat of the old-time boyish look came back, +and in the yearning of the anguished eyes I seemed to see the +shepherd's son again. + +"'The Master!' cried Dimas, and he stretched forth his neck that +he might see him that spake. + +"'O Dimas, how art thou changed!' cried the Master, yet there +was in his voice no tone of rebuke save that which cometh of +love. + +"Then Dimas wept, and in that hour he forgot his pain. And the +Master's consoling voice and the Master's presence there wrought +in the dying criminal such a new spirit, that when at last his +head fell upon his bosom, and the men about the cross said that +he was dead, it seemed as if I shined not upon a felon's face, +but upon the face of the gentle shepherd lad, the son of Benoni. + +"And shining on that dead and peaceful face, I bethought me of +the little Master's words that he had spoken under the old +olive-tree upon the hill-side: 'Your eyes behold the promised +glory now, O Dimas,' I whispered, 'for with the Master you walk +in Paradise.'" + + +Ah, little Dear-my-Soul, you know--you know whereof the moonbeam +spake. The shepherd's bones are dust, the flocks are scattered, +the old olive-tree is gone, the flowers of the hill-side are +withered, and none knoweth where the grave of Dimas is made. But +last night, again, there shined a star over Bethlehem, and the +angels descended from the sky to earth, and the stars sang +together in glory. And the bells,--hear them, little +Dear-my-Soul, how sweetly they are ringing,--the bells bear us +the good tidings of great joy this Christmas morning, that our +Christ is born, and that with him he bringeth peace on earth and +good-will toward men. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Mouse and The Moonbeam, by Eugene Field + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOUSE AND THE MOONBEAM *** + +***** This file should be named 27697.txt or 27697.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/6/9/27697/ + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Edwards and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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